“You're afraid of what we might do to her?” he asks, and I shrug. I mean, look at them. They kill people, they bury them alive, they castrate them. But Ms. Keating is … she's different. I don't know how to explain it to Victor, but hurting her would mean losing everything that I am.
I want justice, even if it hurts. Even if the cost is high.
I do not want slaughter.
“She defended me against Neil, even though she was terrified to speak up. That has to count for something?” I almost sound like I'm pleading, but then, that's not really my thing. “I'm queen of Havoc now, asshole. You share a crown.”
Victor laughs at me yet again, but this time, the sound of it is different. He sounds … mirthful? Weird.
“Okay, wife. You can deal with Ms. Keating—just so long as she is dealt with.” He turns back to me, and there's a glint in his eyes that makes me sweat. The animal in me is both intrigued and terrified. Either he is hunting, or he is readying to mate. Since I'm not a goddamn animal, I know it's the latter, but his expression, his intent, the way his body tenses up … it could be either. “But first, you have to show me you know how to suck dick.”
I narrow my eyes on him.
“I don't have to do shit,” I snap back, but really, he knows he's getting to me.
“No?” he asks, grinning like the psycho he is. “But you want to. What's the difference? This whole time we've been here, we've been fucking like rabbits and yet, you haven't put my cock in your mouth.”
“Because you won't stay away from my pussy,” I snarl back at him, but I'm already anticipating taking him into my hand and squeezing my fingers around the thick base of his shaft, putting the heavy weight of him on my tongue. There can be power in it, in oral sex. If you let a guy put you on your knees, cool. But you also have his dick between your teeth, and if you're not afraid to bite down …
“What can I say?” Vic purrs, putting a palm on either side of me and leaning in so that I can smell him. He smells like fresh sweat, and Scotch, and cigarette smoke, and I'm absolutely living for it. Getting married at seventeen, in all reality, is dumb as fuck. Like, I'd make fun of anyone else for doing it. But, this is me and Vic and Havoc, and it just works. “I like your cunt. I like filling you with my seed. I'm primal and stupid and horny. Wanna try to tame me, Bernadette?”
I give him a dark look.
We both know Vic can never be tamed.
“I don't know, Victor. When you find your balls, let me know. Because I'm pretty sure I stole them in the last few weeks.” He chuckles, pushing his face up against the side of my throat and grazing my tender skin with his teeth.
“Do not mistake my being nice to you as anything but that: a favor. It is not submission. It never will be.” I reach up and grab him by the hair, and he returns the gesture, doing the same to me. Unfortunately, I'm the one who lets out a gasp first.
Asshole.
“Suck me off, so I can kiss you and taste my cum on your lips.”
“I hate you,” I whisper back at him, but when he slants his mouth to mine and kisses me, all I can taste is his carnal appetite, endless and yawning like a chasm, insatiable. And yet, I want nothing more than to try my very best to fill it.
Victor's tongue sweeps mine, a hot fury that soon takes over my conscious mind. I blame it on the magic of the honeymoon, but really, it's just us. Me and him. We are sin incarnate, and we both know it. My legs spread of their own accord, but thankfully, when Vic starts to undulate his hips against me, we have the sheet to protect us. Doesn't stop him from putting the very tip in, but the fabric's in our way and he ends up cursing and growling against my mouth.
“This is what I was talking about,” I murmur against his lips. With a string of colorful curses, Vic sits up and rakes his fingers through his hair. His pupils are so dilated that his irises look entirely black. In reality, they're a very dark brown, but it's impossible to see the color without a whole lot of light. “Now, get on your back.”
He gives a derisive snort, and I scowl.
“Nah, how about you get on your knees for me?” he asks, cocking a brow as he stands up and yanks me to my feet. I try to keep the sheets with me, but end up tripping over them and falling into his tattooed arms. His grandmother's ring sparkles on my finger as I curl my hand around his bicep.
See what I mean?
Give and take.
We are not willing to accept equality. One of us always wants to be in charge. Like last night, when I rode his ass into the mattress until I was satisfied.
Vic slides his fingers into my hair and kisses me again, working his mouth against mine until I'm making sounds that are most definitely finding their way out the open balcony door and into the ears of Havoc’s remaining members.
At least the girls are at breakfast with Aaron and Callum.
And no part of me is concerned about that; they couldn't be safer.
My knees feel weak as Victor massages the back of my head with his inked fingers, encouraging me to let down the seemingly infinite number of shields around my heart. He breaks them into pieces, with every kiss, every look, every touch. He spirits my numbness away, leaves me vulnerable and aching.
I want to please him, and I hate myself for that.
But not as much as I love him.
“I hate you,” I murmur again, but he just grins against my mouth, giving me one, last punishing kiss before I slide my palms down the length of his beautiful body and drop to the floor. My left hand, the one with my still-fresh HAVOC tattoo, encircles the base of his cock, squeezing until I get a satisfying groan to pass through those wicked lips of his.
“Hate me while I’m loving you,” he says as he lets his head fall back, resting his big palms on the top of my head. For a moment there, I almost believe Victor’s being nice. He shatters that notion pretty quick. “Hate me while your mouth is wrapped around my cock.” His fingers tighten in my hair, encouraging me to take him between my lips.
I let him guide me there, let him push as much of himself into my mouth as I can take. It takes both my fist and my mouth to hold all of him and even then, it’s a challenge. My stomach muscles tighten with anticipation as I move back, swirling my tongue around the tip of Victor’s cock and tasting both his cum and my own honey. The combination of the two is intoxicating, amplifying the slight buzz in my head from the Scotch and a morning filled with orgasms.
My head bobs a few times, just to work up some friction. Then I draw back, running my tongue along the underside of his dick, down to his balls. I tease the seam with my tongue as my eyes lift up to find Vic’s face. His head is thrown back in bliss, lips parted, fingers massaging my scalp.
He’s completely open to me right now, drowning in reckless abandon.
I could probably kill him, if I really wanted to. Is that a strange thought to have? Regardless, it brings me a perverse sense of pleasure. I’m on my knees, but he’s the one who’s vulnerable right now. When I slide my mouth over the length of him again, Vic’s hips thrust in response, driving deep into my throat. I keep my hand in place to control him, drawing back and then squeezing hard with my fingers. Using my saliva as lube, I draw my fist along him until I reach the end of his shaft, and then I let go. He lets out a little growl, but I quickly grab him at the base again. Over and over, I repeat that motion, like I’m milking him.
“Mouth,” he snarls, yanking my head back to his cock. Vic thrusts between my lips, and I groan, shifting in place. I’m soaking wet again. Well, I never really stopped being wet. That’s how my last three days have been. Since we walked away from the decrepit ruin of Victor’s grandmother’s house, we’ve been fucking nonstop.
We are addicted to each other’s venom.
No doubt about that.
I start to hum, a trick that I learned, aptly enough, from the halls of Prescott High. Nobody knows how to give a better hummer than a girl from the southside. The vibrations in my throat travel through my tongue and into Vic, the world’s most perverted song.
“Right there, princess,” he groans, his fingers tightening their hold on my head. I place my right palm against his lower abs, feeling the rock-hard muscles clench as a powerful climax digs its claws into him. When I try to pull back—to correct his usage of the word princess—he thrusts forward with a violent groan, spilling hot, salty seed across my tongue.
I swallow and draw back, swiping my arm across my lips. When I turn a poisonous glare up to Vic, I find him grinning down at me, clearly satisfied and smug and annoying as shit.
“Princess?” I ask as he offers me a hand, yanking me to my feet and tucking my naked body against the front of his. “There is no princess in chess. Call me queen or find a new nickname altogether.”
“How does cupcake sound?” he asks, laughing at the scowl on my face.
“Glad you find it funny. How about we make it serious?” I quip as Victor catches my much smaller hands between his larger ones. Seeing our newly slashed palms pressed together, HAVOC tattoos intertwined, dulls my anger. But just a little. “Don’t make me cut you, Victor Channing.”
“Get dressed, my queen,” he says, looking at me for the briefest of moments with pure tenderness in his expression. He closes his eyes, as if to regain his composure. When he opens them, they’re sharp with cunning and thick with violence. “We have a big day ahead of us, after all.” He releases me and turns to head for the shower, dropping the robe with—likely—the sole purpose of flashing me that muscular ass of his.
Dick.
Then again, when I close my eyes, I can hear his wedding vows in my head. The words were whispered softly against my ear as he moved inside of me with deep, slow strokes, loving and rife with romantic intent.
“Bernadette, you are the driving force behind everything I do. You always have been. I can’t thank you enough for that. Without you, I wouldn’t have had a reason. A reason to live. A reason to fight. A reason to succeed. You’re the oxygen in my blood and the electricity that makes my heart beat.”